Thursday, April 21, 2005


Reassuringly I’ve thought
to trace my nauseous anxiety
back to the fact I was born
with what the doctors & dad
said was a ‘wet lung’,

concomitant possibly
to my disappointing inability
to scull, to smoke anything more
than a quarter of a cone
& to eat in tiny portions
that say anal austerity
over twentysomething gluttony.

& then when the television
salesperson bemoans the
third of the world that will
never learn to breath properly

your revelatory detective goes
a-ha & jots another origin.

You know when I get time away
from the ironic small-scale
anti-self-help-sales-culture crusade,
there’s nothing I like more
than to try & meekly metaphorise
my private nausea as relating
to an overriding aversion
against complete digestion;

I prefer surfaces & textures
& skipping along the aisles of love.
I am not conscious of heavy
Adamsonian aesthetic influences
except Stanley Kubrick, whose
straight lines & exact canvasses
make me freak & sparkle

& when marijuana’s exaggerated
complacencies become too much
you can find me wandering
around wailing GET OUT
in front of my chuckling &
wonderful friends. Today
two lives for the price of one.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

filmism is changing tack

films are getting me down. from now on i'm going to intersperse poems between rare reviews. something didactic to start with.


PC’s not even a police force

inspiring a quick hit the lights
here comes the principal type
of don’t show & tell

Geez dead end streets
suburban sprawls
the shy stand-offish torches
of a tarmac night
must make policework impossible

the young & slacker-naturally enlightened
are forced into Orwellian son &
daughter assumptions, draconic
detectives accidentally questing
to get riled every time
old farts slip up. Plain-clothed
in my DUI time tend to pose
a more appalling fear anyway

So keep a siren in yr oversized
pockets, partner to what narcotics
& confusing technology
& never a photo of wrong-headed
antecedents. We will inherit
an earth parsimonious in its
open-heartedness, pathetic
in its brick veneer of ignorance.
What we bring is implicitness,
a seen-it-all-before self-evidence,
a wisdom dating back to that
Thomas Jefferson lost
in yr bullshit gossip columns.
visitors since 26 august 04